Blaspheme!
by Fandemonium-in-the-streets
Summary: Sherlock mentioned to John a while ago that he sometimes swore accidentally. John's been dying to hear of when it first happened and he finally gets what he wished for. But what he gets was not what he was expecting. A follow on from Foul Mouthed, but can still be read as a stand alone. Very mild swearing, rated T just to be safe. Please enjoy!
1. Persuasion

**AN: Here you go guys! I know it was a bit of a wait but it's finally here! We get to know when Sherlock swore in public. I did write this rather quickly, but I'm happy with it :) I've proof-read this, but if you see any spelling errors please tell me! I always seem to miss something. I hope you like it! If you guys have any ideas for a better title, I'm happy to listen :)**

**WARNING: Mild swearing, nothing too big.**

* * *

**Blaspheme!**

"Sherlock?"

"Sherlock"

"Sherlock!"

"What? What on earth could be so impossibly important that you have to interrupt my work?"

Sherlock was scowling at John with his teeth bared, but he paid it no attention. His eyes flicked down casually to the paper in his hands and back up to Sherlock in the kitchen who was now watching him like a hawk. Sherlock had been in another one of his moods, only falling silent when he started doing obscene things with a scalpel to something John didn't even want to know about. It looked like he was fiddling with some type of rat, but it was far too large and furry to be one. John shuddered and redirected his gaze to his flat-mate. He was perched on his chair like a vulture on a branch and his knuckles were turning white with the grip he held on the table. John clicked his tongue thoughtfully and rested his paper against his knees. Sherlock huffed out an impatient breath. After a few seconds of careful consideration John asked,

"You remember a while ago you said that sometimes swear words just…slipped out?" Sherlock stiffened in his seat and John suppressed the urge to grin. Sherlock replied tersely,

"Yes, of course I remember. Why wouldn't I remember?"

John ignored the chance to berate him about the whole solar system fiasco and he tried to stay on track. The question he had had been burning in his brain since Sherlock first mentioned the whole swearing incident. He had mentioned about two months ago how he started to notice himself swearing more often and he blamed it on John. John glowered at his nearly full 'No Cussy Cussy Jar' on the mantel piece and an even harder at Sherlock's empty one, neatly labeled 'The B*tch's Jar'. The sod hadn't even sworn once since he mentioned it and John was bursting to hear something. Witnessing Sherlock Holmes, possibly the most cultured man on earth (besides Mycroft or the Queen) do something as human and basic as swear was number one on John's wish list. He fought another urge to grin. Cracking up now wouldn't help get the information Sherlock clearly didn't want to divulge.

"Yeah, yeah, you have a big brain and an even bigger head," he folded up his paper and chucked it down onto the table in front of him. He stood up and made himself comfortable in 'his' armchair. Sherlock turned to face him more, still slightly apprehensive. "But what I want to know is when you've actually sworn in public. Back then you said it with a sort of embarrassed face. It's clear there was a story to tell and I'd like to know what it is."

Sherlock could tell by the inflection of John's voice and the way he crossed his arms, he wasn't going to give up without a fair fight. Sherlock looked longingly at the creature on his desk; the mess of it was all over the table. John wouldn't be happy at all. He calculated the chance of him talking his way out of the conversation but he couldn't see any good results. When they had first moved in together, John was easily susceptible to Sherlock's tricks, but he had grown immune to them over time.

"Well?" John tapped his foot on the floor impatiently and nodded his head towards the couch. Sherlock heaved a dramatic sigh, peeled off his white gloves and plodded over to the couch. He flopped down heavily and stared at the ceiling. He could already feel his face heat up and he hoped John couldn't tell. He was always so annoyingly perceptive about those sorts of things. John realized with a frustrated grunt that Sherlock wasn't going to start the conversation. So he began asking questions, hoping to gather some information.

"How long ago was it?" Sherlock just sniffed and said nothing so John tried again,

"Was it in front of the Yard?"

"Was Anderson there?"

"What did you say?"

John continued to bombard Sherlock with questions and digs and jibes, trying to get him to talk, but Sherlock-being the stubborn bastard that he was, said nothing. John threw up his hands in frustration and nearly shouted,

"Fine! Okay, I get it! You don't want to talk! You could have just said that before and saved us both a lot of time." John stood up, ignoring the twinge in his leg and shuffled into the kitchen for a cup of tea. He was grumpy at Sherlock for being so childish. Out of pure habit, he began making a cup for Sherlock as well. He was dumping the tea bags into the mug when he heard Sherlock say quietly,

"It was just before Christmas, a few months ago."

John poked his head out into the living room. Sherlock had sat up on the couch and had his head in his hands. If John hadn't known the context, he would have thought that Sherlock had been told terrible news. He was hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees and if John didn't know any better, he would have thought that Sherlock was blushing. It was hard to tell though; his face was shielded by a thick layer of drooping hair. John abandoned the tea and knelt down in front of Sherlock.

"Okay, well what happened then?" Sherlock took a deep shuddering breath. John wasn't quite sure what was happening. He was acting as if he was recounting a harrowing experience. Rather than feel sympathy for his friend, he felt like he had the upper hand for once. John smiled a little too sweetly and said,

"Come on, Sherlock," he cooed, "it's okay, you can tell me."

Sherlock took another deep breath, stretching his shirt around his bony frame. John placed a hand on his knee comfortingly. Sherlock looked up with an anxious but determined face.

"Okay, I'll tell you." John wasn't sure what he was in for.

* * *

**AN: Sorry to end it here! But the next chapter's going to be a flashback and it will be kinda long. Best to make it a separate chapter. I hope you liked it! Don't forget to review! **


	2. The Incident Before Christmas

**AN: OMG, you guys! I'm so sorry this is so late! I had about half of this written up ages ago but I couldn't think of an ending! I'm so sorry! Plus, school's been busy and I've been thinking about what to write for _Retreating Shadows: Part 2_! (don't worry if you're reading it! The next chapters nearly finished and it involves a new character!)**

**ENJOY!**

**WARNINGS: Swearing, of course. But it's been bleeped out like usual :)**

* * *

**The Incident Before Christmas**

"_Okay, I'll tell you." John wasn't sure what he was in for._

Sherlock took in a deep breath. He lifted his head out of his hands and looked around the room, trying to avoid John who was so unhelpfully right in his face. Sherlock attempted to say something several times, but the terribly hidden smirk plastered on John's face was incredibly distracting. Sherlock lost his temper and shouted,

"Mr Watson! Would you kindly move you and your fat head to the other side of the room? You're putting me off." John grumbled but complied, sitting himself in his arm chair. Sherlock lay down on the couch and closed his eyes, attempting to relax himself.

"Alright. So umm…I told you before-"

"Wait, Sherlock! Lemme' just get some popcorn!"

"Wha-? Are you serious!? Get back here!" Sherlock shouted. He heard the ding of their new microwave (because he'd melted their old one) and John walked into the room, large bowl of popcorn and a fizzy drink bottle in his hands.

"Really John? If you're going to act like this is a movie theatre, you can at least pay me!" Sherlock snapped.

"Shut up." John adjusted the position of his popcorn in his lap and grabbed a fistful, shoving it into his mouth.

"Okay, go." He said a mouth full of food. Sherlock tried to suppress a grin but gave up. He placed his hands under his chin and continued, still smiling.

"So I told you it was about two days before Christmas, right? During the Langdon case?" John nodded in understanding, which Sherlock didn't see as he continued rambling on anyway.

"Well, it was during the third night at the St. Paul's Cathedral."

"Oh, I wasn't there that night. I was on a date with Yvette." John took a swig of his drink. Sherlock twisted his head and stared at John in irritation. Of course he was on a date that night! Why wouldn't he be? It wasn't like he had something much more interesting and important to help his friend with (!). Now he'd have to explain everything for him. Damn John and his overactive libido. Sherlock huffed out an exasperated breath.

"Whatever. So I got out of the cab"-

-Start Flashback-

Sherlock swept into the Cathedral entrance, collar pulled up against the snow drifting down. The interior was pleasantly warm and he relaxed into his coat slightly, feeling cold water slide down the back of his neck. He didn't bother to wipe it away. There were small crowds milling around the place, staring stupidly at the ornate building. _Probably tourists_, Sherlock mused. He spotted Lestrade's team of four not too far away, and he made his way across the ornate floor, not sparing a glance to the people around him. As Sherlock neared he saw Donovan and Anderson giggling together and Lestrade- was he laughing? He was-the irritating sod!

"Sherlock! What happened to you? You're absolutely drenched!" Lestrade continued to laugh good naturedly while Sherlock swiped melted snow flakes off his Belstaff and flicked water out of his hair. Anderson and Donovan were laughing openly at him now, drawing the attention of other people.

His long locks were clinging to his head, making him shiver slightly and showing the shape of his skull. He wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck and smiled sweetly at Anderson and Donovan. They were still doubled over laughing at Sherlock's ridiculous hair.

"You're both working tonight? So close to Christmas? I suppose you, Anderson, wouldn't want to go back to a cold bed while your wife is away sleeping with someone else," Anderson stopped laughing and spluttered but Sherlock continued, "And the pound is too full to take in anyone else, aren't they Donovan?"

Sherlock was met with a stunned silence and he smirked.

-End Flashback-

"Why did you say that? They didn't do anything to you!" John said indignantly. Half of his popcorn was gone and he had chugged his way completely through the fizzy drink. Sherlock retorted childishly,

"They laughed at my hair!" John just chuckled and shrugged.

"Alright, keep going." said John. Sherlock sniffed.

-Restart Flashback-

Sherlock turned and addressed a disapproving Lestrade. Sherlock smiled pleasantly at him and he gave a quick grin back before suppressing it, just for the sake of professionalism. Lestrade, back into DI mode once more, said,

"Alright Sherlock, what are we doing here? This place is nowhere near the original crime scene." Sherlock heaved a theatrical sigh and the PC (_first night on the job, going by his immaculate uniform and professional, rigid stance_, Sherlock thought) was glancing around unhappily. He had obviously no idea what was going on and wasn't too pleased about it. Sherlock looked around the large Cathedral, checking they weren't being watched.

"Get your people and mutts," Donovan snarled, "to guard the exits. I've been watching Mr Langdon and learnt his routine. He should be around here somewhere." Lestrade looked as if he was about to say something, a clear look of confusion on his face, but Sherlock held his hand up, effectively silencing him.

He and the group fanned out, walking around the large cathedral slowly. Sherlock began to grow exasperated at all the tourists- they were in the bloody way! Finally he saw him, Sherlock signaled to Lestrade and-

- End Flashback…Again-

"Come on! Get to the swearing part! It's taking forever!" cried John petulantly. Sherlock muttered underneath his breath and snapped,

"Fine! We found the baddie; I sat on him for a bit while Lestrade ran over because **someone**," he glared at John harshly, "took my handcuffs. And then as he was being loaded into the police car-"

"Whoa! Tell the story properly! Just be quick about it." Sherlock sat up on the couch and ran his hands through his hair angrily. He choked out, "Fine" between clenched teeth. He was seriously regretting even bringing up the whole swearing thing. He spared a glance at his still empty swearing jar and at John's newly empty one. He'd had to take out the money because it was full. John had been seriously unhappy at the time.

-Re-Restart Flashback-

Sally Donovan led Phillip Langdon to the awaiting police car, hands cuffed behind his back. Sherlock watched on nearby, frustration bubbling underneath his indifferent expression. His hair looked ridiculous, he'd tripped over tourists while chasing the convicted man and he'd had to sit on his chest while he waited for Lestrade to catch up. He'd been made to look like a fool that night and he was **hated** looking like a fool

Because he wasn't a fool. Nope. Not at all.

Lestrade wandered up to him from behind and shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets. He stood still for a few seconds before asking hesitantly,

"Why were you sitting on him again?" Sherlock gritted his teeth.

"John confiscated my handcuffs."

Lestrade tipped his head back and laughed, clapping Sherlock on the back hard. Sherlock stumbled forwards and flung his arms out in front of him to break his fall. Unfortunately, as soon as Sherlock put his hands on the police car door frame in front of him, Sally had already begun swinging the door shut. The hard metal clamped down onto Sherlock's fingers and he had to try **very** hard to not scream in pain. Instead, he said other things.

"F*CK! Oh my God, Donovan! You absolutely, F*CKING USELESS C*NT! Christ, are you an idiot as well as a B*TCH?!"

As Sherlock shook his hand wildly to relieve the pain, everyone in the vicinity stared at him in shock. Everything was still for a few precious moments before they noticed an old woman lumbering towards Sherlock with the ferocity of a rhino. Lestrade had never seen such a hysterical look of fear on Sherlock's face before. The tiny lady, who was probably half of the detective's height, raised her hand bag and began smacking him with it on the head. All the policemen and women watching jumped back in fright, Donovan and Anderson clutching each other for support due to their glee.

"**BLASPHEME! **How dare you say such things? You wicked, wicked boy!"

Sherlock cried out in pain as the multiple metal buckles made contact with his face and already damaged hands. He spluttered out apologies mixed in with various swear words. Rather than abate the woman, this seemed to make her even angrier as she squawked like a banshee and hit him harder. She shrieked out with every blow of her bag,

"**BLASPHEME! BLASPHEME! BLASPHEME!**" Sherlock protected his face with his arms against the harsh blows. Lestrade came to his senses as this point and wrestled the weapon out of the woman's hands. Another policeman held her away and put her into handcuffs as well.

-End Flashback-

Sherlock was interrupted at this point (rather rudely, Sherlock thought) by John.

"Oh my GOD, Sherlock! You- you- OH F*CK!" John howled with laughter and thrashed in his chair. He evidently couldn't contain his mirth as he tipped over the little popcorn left in his bowl and fell onto the floor. He thumped the carpet with a fist and clutched his stomach with the other hand.

Sherlock's face slackened. He couldn't deal with this-not now. So he picked up his coat and stomped out of the flat. He would return later when John became capable of speech again. Sherlock mused that would be in an hour or so.

_Just in time for dinner_, he thought.

* * *

**AN: ****I hope the ending is to your liking! Or better yet, tell me in a review because I thought really hard about this story and want to know if it was good or not!**


End file.
